Chapter 67: World Tree (2)
Darkness wrapped around me like an old, dusty blanket that smelled suspiciously of forgotten things. Not exactly the coziest feeling. And where the hell did those ghostly lights go? Where are they when I need light the most?
Even the torches mounted on the spines of bookshelves flickered out. I’m a second away to shouting: let there be light! If only the hairs in my arm weren’t fascinating me, standing on their own.
I couldn’t see it. I just knew. My skin tightened after hearing that sound.
The atmosphere turned cold and eerie, and the silence was thick and long—so absolute that I started wondering if I had suddenly gone deaf.
Then, a few moments later, I heard it again.
The sound of something scraping.
I froze. I held back my breath, a bit scared that my sound might catch the attention of whatever that is.
Then, something farted.
...that was not me. It sounded like a fart but it closed to something softly and slowly croaking noise... though I did smell something beside the smell of books. The scent was a mix of musty, aged wood with a faint, unsettling, almost unnatural scent.
Like the smell of old parchment, damp earth, with the faintest hint of something metallic and herbal at the same time, like dried leaves long forgotten.
Another scrape, slow and deliberate, echoed in the room, like something being dragged across the floor, except the floor wasn’t the issue. I’m certain it’s not on the floor.